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Prose

Night of the Beast

21 May 2018

Have you heard about the Night of the Beast? It’s the day those creatures we cared for, creatures we treasure, and the creatures we hunted come back to our world. Clothed in the skin of the underworld, fit for a hot summer evening, they march down the streets, their legs returning them to homes where the memories of them subsist.

They chatter as if they were human, like family and friends that have known each other for a long, long time. A torch, a giant bonfire reaching towards the night sky and brushing the stars, acting as the beacon for spirits who wander too far afield.

But they aren’t always so friendly. Headless boars rise from their graves, rotting bodies swallowed by the earth. Laid down with the shift of a finger. Up come the deer with antlers shattered and broken; some of them even bare-headed. They rear their heads and howl.

Look! There, among the dandelions. They sway as the spirits begin to move.


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